CHAPTER 15 #2
“Well, they didn’t actually do anything but grab themselves and give me the eye, but it was a little unsettling.”
“No, no, it’s better if I call. We’ve had enough of that loitering nonsense, and in this neighborhood, you give an inch and they take a mile.
” The woman gave her a smile. “I hope you don’t think they’re all like that.
Most of the kids around here are good kids. They just have it rough, most of ’em.”
“I believe it.”
“These kids, they show up looking mostly like regular kids, but some of their stories would make you cry.”
Rebecca leaned on the counter thoughtfully. “Is that why you help out?”
The woman gave a firm nod. “Absolutely. I’m Marla, by the way. Marla Bryant.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“That boy?” Marla nodded toward the hall beyond the closed reception doors. Rebecca turned to follow her gaze, saw Devon walking slowly toward them. “He’s one of the good ones.”
Rebecca grinned, raised her hand to wave as Devon caught her eye.
“He sure is,” she said over her shoulder to Marla as she stepped into the hallway to meet him.
“Hey there, Miss Becca.” Devon looked genuinely pleased to see her.
He wore athletic shorts and a vivid blue T-shirt, no yellow gangster symbols anywhere, and she noticed how his permanent teeth still had those telltale jagged edges of childhood.
It made her remember again what it felt like to be eleven, that gawky completely out-of-place middle ground between kid and teen.
Tweens, they were calling them now—someplace in between—and knew there was a whole universe of specialized marketing to appeal to hundreds of thousands of kids like him.
Except maybe those kids had plenty of food.
“Hey, Devon!” She held out her hand, and he shook it carefully, his little fingers cool against her own. They took seats on the brown bench outside the administration office.
“Miss Marla showed me your article this morning. You did a good job!”
Somehow hearing those words the last two days from a dozen adults couldn’t top the overwhelming rush of pride she felt when Devon said them.
“Thanks,” she said, surprised to feel her face heat. “Well, I brought you a bunch more so you can have them for your family, maybe give them to other people you think should read about this?”
“Awesome.”
Rebecca took a breath. “So I’ve been thinking.”
“You want to do more articles. About the program.” Devon nodded. “I think that’s a great idea.”
She laughed again. This kid was something else!
“Yes, Devon, that’s exactly what I was going to suggest. The article went over well and made for a nice front page, but more importantly, the story resonated with our readers. I think we have the chance to do some real good here.”
“I think so, too. Mama always said shining the light keeps the darkness out.”
Rebecca thought about that, nodded slowly. “I think your mama was right. So, do you know anyone who might talk to me? Maybe we can weave some of their lives in as we do a series on the program, how it’s making an impact.”
“I was thinking.” Devon scratched his chin like he was deep in thought. “Could you let them tell their stories, one by one? Like, a story a week? And at the end of it all you could do some big article about how the summer went?”
She sat back, visualized it. That might be brilliant. She considered the implications—how the stories would look on a page, how she might tie in an editorial, even a photo page midway through.
“You think they’d do it?”
“I think so. Maybe if you gave them a gift card or something, not much, like five bucks or whatever, it’d help.”
Five bucks wasn’t much. She would’ve done it for five bucks when she was a kid.
“Yeah,” she said, deciding. The excitement began to build. “Yeah, I think we can do that. We could change their names, some of the details to protect their privacy. Run some photos from time to time. Maybe a few voices from the volunteers. But yes, I like this. A lot.”
She made her face look serious a moment. “But there’s one catch.”
“What?” Devon gave her a guarded look.
“I need your voice in there, too. This program was your idea. People like hearing stories from the visionary, too, not just the people who are getting the help. So once a week, I wonder if you and I can meet around four or so, and maybe I can take you for burgers and shakes, and I can interview you.”
Devon shrugged, but his eyes sparked. “Sure. That’d be great! So …” He gestured to the hall behind him. “Want me to start talking to the kids, see who might wanna do it? I can even pass out some of those waiver forms if you give me some.”
Rebecca laughed again, feeling light years more relaxed than she’d been in a week.
Like a kid, almost. Being around Devon Robinson made her feel good.
She wasn’t sure why—maybe it was because he was an oddball, like her, or maybe it was encountering someone who could relate to her drive and passion.
In fact, she realized that for the first time in ages, other than when she was with Granny, she wasn’t playing “Social Rebecca” anymore—that trained bright smile and let’s-do-business handshake. She was smiling her real smile at him, the kind that stretched her face and exposed all her teeth.
“Devon Robinson,” she pronounced, shaking her head. “You seriously are the most ‘together’ person I think I’ve ever met.”
He smiled. “I like you too, Miss Becca.”
“So,” she said conspiratorially, crossing her legs on the bench to match his. “Want to grab those burgers this afternoon?”